Sapphic September 2019 - HP Femslash Oneshot Collection
by knowyourincantations
Summary: Oneshot collection for Harry Potter femslash ships! Each chapter is a new fic, the ship is in the chapter title. (fic marked as Pansmione and Linny because they tend to be the most common ships by the end of the month). Day 10 is Hermione/Tracey
1. Day 1 - Ginsy

**A/N:** This fic will collect all the oneshots I write for Sapphic September 2019. The ships will vary, and will be in the chapter titles, as well as the header for each fic, which will contain the prompt, pairing, rating, word count, summary and tags, so you can avoid reading something you won't enjoy. I'm overall tagging this fic with Pansmione, as they tend to be the ship I write the most for these sorts of things.

And with that all said, on to Day 1!

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**Prompt:** "I want you to kiss me."  
**Pairing:** Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson  
**Rating:** Teen  
**Word Count:** 1,489  
**Summary:** Pansy has something to tell Ginny, but she wants something in return.

**Tags:** EWE, Eighth Year, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Bickering

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**Bartering for a Kiss**

Someone jostled Ginny's shoulder. She turned, ready to tell them to shove off, only to find Pansy standing beside her. Her cheeks were pink and she appeared out of breath.

"Oh, it's you," Ginny said, deflating somewhat. It would have been nice to take out her frustration by snapping at someone.

Pansy scowled at her, but Ginny wasn't in the least bothered. After months of being thrown together in their shared classes, mainly because no one was allowed to pair with their own house, and no one ever wanted to pair with Pansy, she'd grown quite fond of her.

Fond enough that everyone else had noticed and given her hell for it. She still owed Parvati a prank or two for the joke she'd made in the common room just the night before. Telling her to sod off to her special eighth-year common room had been a weak response at the time. She needed to do better.

Maybe it was her own fault. Maybe if she hadn't abruptly stopped dating every boy to take her passing fancy, her time with Pansy wouldn't have been so noticed.

No one commented much on Neville and Theo's closeness after all, even though she knew for a fact they _were_ fooling around.

"That's a fine way to greet someone," Pansy huffed, drawing herself to her full height, which was still several inches shorter than Ginny. "Care to try again?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and bumped their shoulders together.

"Oh! Pansy, how _delightful_ to see you," she said, in a mockingly high tone of voice. "It's been forever since I saw you last, how ever did I survive?"

Pansy's glare deepened as she folded her arms across her chest.

Ginny bit back a laugh. It was strange to think she'd once thought Pansy was intimidating, but she had been shorter then. Now she'd grown taller and Pansy had stayed the same, and Ginny had long since learned she was all bark and no real bite. Well, not a sharp bite at least.

"Okay, what?" Ginny asked, looking back out across the grounds. It was the first fine day in a while, and she still couldn't decide if she wanted to risk flying out of bounds or not. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were neck and neck for the house cup, and she didn't relish getting caught and losing points. She could throttle the Hufflepuff captain for managing to schedule the pitch on the one fine day of the month.

"Forget it, wasn't important," Pansy said with a huff.

"Oh? You ran here to tell me, but it wasn't important?" Ginny asked, admiring her profile while she wasn't looking.

"Me? Run? Maybe you should go inside out of the sun, you're delirious," Pansy scoffed. "There's nothing to tell."

Thoroughly distracted from thoughts of flying and risking house points, Ginny stepped in front of her and stared her down.

"Alright, what do you want for it? You know I can't stand when someone says they have something to tell me and then decides not to."

Pansy stared up at her, looking momentarily startled before she recovered.

"What makes you think I want anything?" she asked.

Ginny scoffed to herself. She wouldn't have wanted anything until Ginny had annoyed her. Now she knew she wouldn't get whatever it was out of her without giving something in return. That was just how Pansy did things. It didn't bother Ginny as much as it seemed to bother anyone else, but the negotiations were sometimes annoying.

Pansy could beat around the bush better than anyone she knew.

"I'll bring you as my plus one to that stupid ball the Ministry is throwing at Easter," she offered. Easy enough, she didn't want to go. It rankled her that the only people close to her age that were invited were all known as 'war heroes' and entry was barred to everyone not on the guest list. It was a great chance for the seventh and eighth years to meet Ministry workers and look into jobs they might want to apply for, but it wasn't fair that it was limited to the only people who didn't actually need the extra help getting jobs after Hogwarts.

Elitism was not her thing, but she knew Pansy wanted to go, and it'd put her in a good mood for the rest of the year if she took her.

It would probably make the evening far more enjoyable for herself too. Win-win in her books.

For a moment, Pansy gaped at her, visibly thrown off balance again.

Ginny usually played the negotiation game with her a little longer before offering something she knew Pansy actually wanted. But if she got to see that wide-eyed startled look on Pansy's face, she'd cut to the chase more often.

"I didn't think you were even going to that," Pansy finally said, her expression closing off like she suspected Ginny was teasing her.

"I wasn't planning to," Ginny said with a shrug. "Didn't have anyone to go with, and I don't really like those things."

Pansy's expression turned calculating. "But you'd go with me?"

It was the closest Ginny had come to being frank about that. The great number of things she'd do if Pansy was involved. With the way everyone was always joking about her interest in Pansy, she really didn't think she had to spell it out.

"I offered, didn't I?"

Pansy bit her lip for a moment, then looked around. "That's still a month away." She took Ginny's hand and pulled her away, leading her towards the Greenhouses.

"So?" Ginny asked, wondering if whatever Pansy had been meaning to tell her was plant-related. She couldn't think what it would be, unless Pansy had caught Theo and Neville snogging there again.

"So, what if I want something now?" Pansy said, letting her hand go and turning to face her the moment they were tucked out of sight from everyone else out on the grounds.

Ginny perked up. This was a familiar situation, but a surprising one from Pansy. "Oh?"

She'd had her suspicions about where Pansy's tastes lay, but never any proof. She was probably getting excited for nothing. Maybe she'd underestimated how annoyed Pansy was. Maybe she was deliberately misleading her just to get back at her. That was certainly her style, though she didn't usually turn it against Ginny.

"What do you want?" Ginny asked.

Pansy glanced around again, then lifted her chin in an exaggerated display of confidence. So exaggerated that Ginny would have teased her for it any other time.

"I want you to kiss me," Pansy said boldly. "Then I'll tell you."

Ginny held her breath for a moment, replaying the words to make sure she hadn't imagined them. Then she released it and nodded. She wasn't stupid enough to tease Pansy for this, or make her wait.

She closed the gap between them and cupped the side of Pansy's face.

"Doesn't seem a fair trade," she murmured. "I get two things I want with no compromise."

She let that sink in for a just a moment, until Pansy's eyes widened, then she kissed her. Softly, chastely. Just a lingering peck.

When she leaned back, Pansy followed her forward for a moment, and Ginny leaned in and kissed her again. Pansy moved away after that.

"I thought those were all jokes," she said.

Ginny groaned. It wasn't difficult to figure out what she meant.

"Oh, they are jokes, as in, they're teasing me for how I feel."

"Oh," Pansy said softly. "I should have thought of that."

"I thought you had," Ginny admitted. "What was this then? How were you going to shrug this off if I laughed in your face?"

Pansy stepped back and shrugged. "I was going to say it was designed to be something you wouldn't want to do, so you'd never know what I was going to tell you."

"Smart, defensive," Ginny said, fixated by the way Pansy licked her lips. "What were you going to tell me?"

"Oh, the Quidditch pitch is free," Pansy said distractedly. "The Hufflepuffs cancelled their practice. I thought you might want to go flying without risking the house cup by flying out of bounds and getting caught."

"You..." The thoughtfulness of Pansy rushing through the castle to find her and tell her, probably right after hearing about it, rendered her speechless for a moment. On a whim, she leaned in and kissed her again. "And people say you're heartless," she murmured after.

"Don't spread this around," Pansy grumbled. "That reputation keeps people from bothering me."

Ginny laughed and took her hand. "Come on, you can conjure some stuff to send flying my way for me to dodge."

As Ginny pulled her along, Pansy laughed as well. "Kisses _and_ getting to throw things at you? You sure know how to spoil a girl, Weasley."

Ginny tossed a grin over her shoulder. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

**End.**

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A/N: If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving me a comment to let me know!


	2. Day 2 - Kittyhawk

**Prompt: **"I lied."  
**Pairing: **Minerva McGonagall/Rolanda Hooch  
**Rating: **General Audiences  
**Word Count: **833  
**Summary: **Rolanda pops out to Diagon Alley for an hour and gets a surprise when she returns.

**Tags: **Established Relationship, Animagus

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**When the Wife's Away, the Cat Will Play**

The sitting room was a shambles. Ornaments and vases were knocked over, several books had been knocked off the shelves. There were deep scratch marks all over the furniture and walls.

"Minerva McGonagall, _what do you think you are doing!_" Rolanda hissed, snatching the snitch away from her before she damaged the wings.

Minerva turned a thoroughly unimpressed look Rolanda's way before returning to her human form. She brushed her hands down the front of her robes and then left the room without a word.

Rolanda hurried to put the snitch away in its box before following her. She was led into their kitchen, where Minerva put the kettle on and busied herself with tea things as if nothing had happened at all.

If she hadn't seen it herself, Rolanda might have thought she'd imagined it.

"A snitch is not a toy!" Rolanda chided, surprised she had to remind Minerva of all people. "Its wings are delicate and only charmed to retract to a human touch. You could have damaged it!"

How Minerva had managed to catch it as a cat was something she'd ponder later, but chasing a snitch around certainly explained the state the sitting room was in. And she'd only been gone an hour.

"You don't even like playing with toys when you're a cat," she continued, squinting at Minerva's back and wondering if the silent treatment was punishment for taking the snitch away, or embarrassment for getting caught with it. "You told me that years ago. Quite superior about it, you were."

Minerva put something down heavily enough to create a loud sound that startled Rolanda. When she turned around, she had a sour look on her face.

"I suppose you think I lied?" she said.

She sounded out of breath, even though she didn't appear so.

Rolanda squinted at her. "Lied to yourself then, did you? Shall we venture out to a pet shop for some toys then?"

Minerva's expression darkened rapidly. "We will do no such thing!"

If she had been in cat form, her tail would have been fluffed up from anger.

Rolanda amused herself with that image for a few moments before responding. Minerva turned her back and fiddled with the tea things again.

"Is this a seeker thing, then?" Rolanda finally asked. "You haven't played in decades, surely those instincts have well and truly died by now."

Minerva's back straightened, but she didn't turn around. "I'll thank you to drop the subject. How was Diagon Alley?"

"Oh no," Rolanda laughed. "We're not dropping this. You had fun, you can't deny it. The state of the sitting room is proof of that. If it got loose on its own you could have easily captured it with magic. You _chose_ to chase it as a cat."

With a loud clatter, Minerva dropped something and whirled around.

"Oh, fine!" she snapped. "I may be old but I'm not dead yet! Yes, it was enjoyable to chase that thing around like a common cat chasing a bird. There, I said it. Are you satisfied?"

Rolanda could have laughed. She'd have a titter about it with Albus once they returned to Hogwarts for the new school year. Maybe if she was feeling particularly peevish, she'd tell Severus. She did so love to watch the he and Minerva bicker.

"Have you done this before?" she asked. "Waited until I've gone out and then scampered around the house after one of my snitches?"

Minerva looked like she'd bit into a lemon, and Rolanda did laugh. "Oh, Minnie, you ridiculous woman."

"I'll bite its wings off next time, just you wait," Minerva muttered, abandoning the tea things and moving back to the sitting room.

Once there, she began setting it to rights, and Rolanda continued to laugh while she watched. From the damage, she could very well imagine just how lively the chase must have been. It seemed Minerva had scampered straight up the walls in one or two places.

"This is perhaps an opportune moment to tell you I finally achieved my own Animagus form," Rolanda finally said, after ceasing her laughter and catching her breath.

Minerva turned and frowned at her.

"You said you were nowhere close last I offered to help."

"I lied," Rolanda said with a grin.

"You really could have achieved it faster if you'd let me help you," Minerva huffed, turning and repairing the wallpaper with an expert flick of her wand.

"Don't you want to know what I am?" Rolanda asked, leaning against the doorframe. She could feign disinterest all she liked with her posture, but if Minerva turned to look at her again, she'd read the excitement in her expression like she was an open book.

"Well, go on," Minerva said waspishly. "The suspense is killing me."

Rolanda grinned. She was sure she could turn that mood around, now that she knew Minerva wasn't as immune to her feline instincts as she liked to pretend.

"I'm a goshawk. Feel like trying to catch me?"

**End.**

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A/N: If you enjoyed reading this please consider leaving a comment to let me know.


	3. Day 3 - HermionePansyTracey

**Prompt:** Socks  
**Pairing: **Hermione/Pansy/Tracey  
**Rating: **Teen  
**Word Count**: 1,246  
**Summary:** Hermione's gift to Pansy for Christmas is more a gift to herself and Tracey, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want Pansy to like it.

**Tags:** EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Established Relationship, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Christmas, Socks, Teasing, Bickering

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**Soft and Warm**

"You know, I can't decide if she's mocking me or if she really does like them," Hermione mused, watching as Pansy scrunched up her toes and splayed them out again. The motion was obvious even through the thick socks. "She hasn't taken her eyes of them for ages."

Tracey finished topping up Hermione's wine glass and then, after putting the bottle down, sank into the sofa with a sigh. She'd just finished dealing with the dishes, grumbling the whole time even though it was her turn. Hermione had enjoyed hearing it, since she was mocked relentlessly about her own reluctance to do the dishes.

She'd keep it to herself, but she was sure Pansy had rigged the fork they'd spun to pick who had to clean up. As long as she hadn't had to deal with it, she wasn't going to complain.

"Who cares? They're not really for her, they're for us," Tracey said, before taking a sip from her own glass and sighing again. "Protection from her permanently freezing feet in winter. Thanks, love. The book I got you pales in comparison to this gift."

In the armchair by the fire, Pansy continued to watch her own toes flex, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

Hermione scrunched up her face and put her glass down on the side table.

That was true, the bed socks were more a gift for herself and Tracey, but she had at least tried to make a few pairs that Pansy would like. Not that she'd really had any clue what that might be, since she never saw Pansy in socks at all.

When questioned about why she never wore socks if her feet were always cold, Pansy had only declared that socks would be a travesty, as they'd hide her toenails, which she regularly got done with beautiful designs.

"She's never captivated by something so mundane," Hermione muttered, scooting deeper into the sofa cushions. "She's mocking me. I should tear them off her feet and burn them."

Tracey snorted and uttered the wandless spell to switch the wireless station. It was late, but each station she tried was still playing Christmas songs.

"Ugh, not everyone loves all this holiday cheer," Tracey huffed, swishing her free hand.

The wireless abruptly stopped. A few moments later, Pansy looked over at them.

"What's wrong?" she asked, shifting in her armchair and looking around.

"Awful Christmas songs, I'm sick of them," Tracey declared. "Play us something, will you?"

Pansy perked up and Hermione bit back a groan. When she went to fetch her violin, Hermione shot Tracey a dark look.

"Oh hush," Tracey said, flapping a hand in her direction and nudging the side of her leg with one foot. "Not every song she plays is sad."

"No, some are just sinister," Hermione huffed, reaching for her wine. "A fine way to tie off Christmas, music that makes you want to cry or check all the locks in a fit of paranoia."

Tracey turned fully sideways, leaning her back against the arm of the sofa and worming her toes under Hermione's thigh.

"Don't be a snob," she laughed. "She put up with your horrid knitting, you can put up with her compositions."

"Hey, I'm a lot better now!" Hermione said, jabbing a finger at her. "Neville adored the hat and scarf I made him!"

She really had come a long way since her terrible attempts at knitting things for the House Elves of Hogwarts. She'd even managed it without Molly's help, though she had certainly offered enough times.

"Did they have to be so fluffy though?" Tracey asked with a snort. "She's going to slip and fall over on the hardwood floor."

Hermione finished her wine and put the glass down. "You'll thank me for that later. I wove permanent warming charms into them as I was knitting them. I bet you'll be rubbing your feel all over them tonight. Fluffy and warm like that horrid hot water bottle cover you won't throw out."

"Leave off, that was a gift from my niece!" Tracey hissed, pulling one foot out from under Hermione's leg to jab at her thigh. "She's only eight, she's doing her best!"

"And yet you insulted my socks," Hermione said with a scowl.

"Leave off the socks," Pansy said, startling them both as she appeared behind the sofa. "They're wonderful. You're just jealous you didn't get a pair, Tracey."

While Tracey spluttered something incoherent, Hermione squinted at Pansy's back when she moved closer to the fireplace. If she was anyone else, then everything she was saying and doing would indicate that she liked the socks. But she wasn't anyone else, she was Pansy.

"You don't have to pretend you know," Hermione said, wanting to head this off before it turned into something drawn out, like when Pansy had mocked her for over a month the one time she'd tried her hand at baking. "I'm a big girl, I can take it."

Pansy turned and frowned at her. "I'm not pretending."

Beside Hermione, Tracey snorted and reached for the bottle of wine. "Should have left it alone," she said.

Hermione gestured at Pansy's feet, still ensconced in the fluffy yellow socks. "You keep staring at them and wriggling your toes. You don't have to keep wearing them if you don't like them."

With an even deeper frown, Pansy set her violin and bow down on her armchair and put her hands on her hips.

"Can't I enjoy something without you two suspecting I'm pretending?" she asked. "I'm not a snob about everything you know."

Tracey snorted into her wine glass and then choked for a few seconds. Pansy glanced at her, then back to Hermione. She looked more hurt than anything.

"No one's ever hand-made me something before," she said, still frowning. "Of course I can't stop looking at them and wriggling my toes. They're so soft and warm I never want to take them off. If I'd known your woollen monstrosities were this comfortable, I'd have bullied you into making me some years ago."

Despite her expressions appearing totally genuine, Hermione still wasn't sure. "Really?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Tracey muttered, prodding at Hermione's thigh again with her toes. "Take the compliment before you start a fight."

Hermione shot her a glare. "You were just insulting my knitting yourself!"

"Why settle for home-made when you can afford something far nicer?" Tracey scoffed, raising her eyebrow and her foot, waving her own fashionable sock in Hermione's face.

Before Hermione could think of a response to that, Pansy leaned over and yanked Tracey's sock off her foot.

"Oi!" Tracey hissed, almost spilling her wine.

Pansy snatched up the other pair Hermione had made her and then swiftly slid one onto Tracey's foot.

Tracey froze, mouth still open to snap something, eyes wide. Right near Hermione's face, the sock wriggled as she curled her toes.

"So warm," Tracey whispered. "So soft. How is it so soft? Wool is always so scratchy when it's not cashmere!"

With an eye-roll in Tracey's direction, Pansy leaned down and tilted Hermione's chin up with two fingers. She kissed her lips and then the tip of her nose before Hermione could protest that strange habit of hers.

"The socks are lovely, really," she said, and this time Hermione believed her. "I expect more for my birthday."

"Absolutely not!" Tracey cut in, sticking her foot between their faces. "I get the next pair, or I'm stealing one of yours!"

**End.**

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A/N: If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving me a review to let me know =)


	4. Day 4 - Pansmione

**Prompt: **"I don't expect you to understand."  
**Pairing: **Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson  
**Rating: **Teen  
**Word Count: **1,689  
**Summary: **Until her twenty-fifth birthday, Pansy has to play the dutiful daughter, letting her parents set her up for dates and pretend she has every intention of marrying one of them one day. Once she turns twenty-five, she gains full control over her trust and can do what she likes. She had it all planned out, how to live until then.

She hadn't planned on Hermione.

**(mind the tags)**

**Tags: **EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, **Strained Relationship, Closeted, Angst, Open Ending, Unresolved Ending**

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**Time Moves Slow**

Down the hall, the clock chimed half-past the hour in the kitchen. Pansy could barely hear it over the loud silence emanating from Hermione. They'd finally reached the part of this tired argument that was so repetitive that even Hermione realised repeating it once more was pointless.

But the fact they kept arguing was bothering Pansy more and more. Enough that she couldn't stop herself from picking at it again.

"It's not like I'm dragging this on indefinitely," she said, checking her makeup in the vanity mirror again. It was better than looking at Hermione's face. "There is an end point to this, there always has been. All this fuss is pointless."

It wasn't as if she hadn't been clear with Hermione from the start. She hadn't even been looking for a relationship when they'd started. In fact, she'd been doing her best to avoid getting attached to _anyone_ until everything was resolved.

But she knew better than to ever mention that it was really Hermione's fault for pursuing her and being just so damn irresistible.

"Really? Pointless?" Hermione said. "It may be pointless but I can't help getting upset every time you go out on dates with random men and never with me. How would you feel? Would you watch me dress up without saying a word? Would you let me go out on a date with someone else wearing a dress like that and say nothing?"

Pansy grimaced at her reflection. She should have let them both stew in silence until she left.

"I hate these dates as much as you do," she muttered. "Probably more, since I actually have to sit through them pretending to enjoy myself when I'd rather bash my head against the table!"

A hand gripped her shoulder and turned her around. Hermione stared at her with beseeching eyes.

"Then end it," she urged. "Just stop. You don't have to keep doing this!"

With a sharp tug, Pansy pulled her shoulder free and crossed the room to pick out a jacket and pull it on. It wasn't really cold enough for it, but it gave her something to do. It had been a mistake to move in with Hermione. Just like every other aspect of their relationship, and the relationship itself.

At the time, she'd thought it was brilliant. The papers had already revealed her friendship with Hermione, but never dug up anything deeper. No one suspected a thing, and it was so very fitting, so like her, to want one brief adventure into an independent life before she bowed to her duty and married the perfect pureblood man.

Her parents had never even questioned it. Hadn't even tried to talk her out of it. Almost encouraged it.

Too caught up in how she felt about Hermione, and too easily swayed by her emotions despite how much she hated that weakness, she'd not really thought ahead to how it would play out. Hermione had seemed so agreeable about the arrangement, and she had always been so practical, Pansy hadn't imagined she'd have such a problem with it.

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione growled. "You don't even care about the wealth, unless you've just been pretending with me the whole time too."

Pansy whirled around and jabbed a finger in her direction. "Don't do that!" she snapped. "I _never_ pretend with you!"

Hermione scoffed and folded her arms.

"Only when there's no one else around."

"I don't expect you to understand that it's not about the money," Pansy said, fighting the reflex to raise her voice and snap about how Hermione hadn't even wanted anyone else to know at first. If she got too defensive, she'd only make it worse. An emotional response only ever made Hermione feel she was right.

"The only reason you're going on the stupid dates is to make sure they don't take your trust away before you gain full control over it," Hermione said. "Tell me how that's not about the money? What other reason do you have for doing this? They could still disown you after they can no longer cut you off. They're always going to try and force you to marry a man. Putting it off solves nothing."

If Pansy hadn't spent so long on her hair she'd tug on it from frustration.

"You just don't get it," she groaned. "If I reveal I'm a lesbian and refuse to marry within their circles, they _have_ to cut me off from my trust, whether they want to or not. That's just how things are done. They'll ruin their social standing if they don't."

Hermione threw her arms up with a frustrated sound. "Then they'll cut you out of the family when you come out _after_ you gain control on your twenty-fifth birthday. You're going to lose them no matter what. How is this not about the money? You don't need it. You make more than enough."

Pansy lifted her hands to rub at her eyes only to remember her makeup at the last moment and drop them again.

"They could, but they _won't_," she said. "I've told you before, but it's okay. I understand why you don't get it. You didn't grow up with all these stupid traditions to discourage certain behaviour, all layered with even more traditions for the many loopholes to avoid punishment. It's all about perception. I pretended so well they couldn't have stopped me, and by the time they or anyone else finds out, it's too late. I play the game well, and I get my reward of not being ostracised for acting out sooner and forcing them to disown me. It may not make sense, but it's just how things are done."

The clock chimed out fifteen minutes to the hour and Hermione sat heavily on the bed. Defeat lined her face. She was giving up again. Giving up trying to understand. They'd have this fight again because for whatever reason, Hermione just didn't get it and didn't try hard enough.

Pansy crossed the room and knelt in front of her. "By playing along, I save face for everyone and keep my family happy. In turn, once I come out, they'll make a fuss, they'll bemoan their situation in having a daughter who won't carry on the line, but then it'll die down. It's only another seven months and this will all be over."

Another seven months of pointless dates wasn't something Pansy wanted either, and precisely why she'd avoided forming attachments for so long. She should never have let Hermione worm her way under her skin. She should have held her off for longer, even though Hermione had insisted she was fine with all the dates Pansy would have to go on to keep up appearances.

"If they were going to disown me regardless of when I come out, I wouldn't bother with this, I'd just come out now to spite them. I don't care about the money. It's not about that," she tried again. "By doing this, I save my relationship with them and everyone else in those circles. That's what it's really about."

Hermione shook her head. "I just don't understand. Why make such a fuss if they just accept you later? Why not accept you sooner? It doesn't make sense. If they really wanted to discourage pureblood children from making the wrong marriages, it would make sense to punish them severely for acting out."

Pansy sighed and touched her shoulder gently. When Hermione didn't shrug her off, she gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I know, love," she murmured. "But they learned a long time ago that punishments and disowning didn't really stop anyone who wanted something forbidden badly enough. This is a compromise, really. Just think of it like that."

Hermione covered her face and groaned. "I want to be the one you dress up for. I want to have dinner somewhere nice, hold your hand, kiss you and not care who sees. I didn't think I would care so much, but I do."

A heavy stone settled in the pit of Pansy's stomach. They'd had this argument several times now, but Hermione had never admitted that before. They usually just went in circles and left nothing resolved.

"I want that too," Pansy said softly, pulling Hermione's hands from her face and then bending down to press their foreheads together. She kept her eyes closed and almost held her breath. "Just hold out a little longer, please. Seven more months and then we'll have all the time in the world."

Across the flat, the doorbell rang and they both flinched.

Pansy turned and looked through the doorway as if she could glare through the walls and her date for the night would bugger off on his own.

"Go," Hermione muttered. "It won't do to keep him waiting."

Pansy turned back to her and bit her lip. That wasn't how she wanted to leave things. It wasn't the same as all the other arguments and passive aggressive silent treatments on date nights. She needed to hear Hermione say she could keep going. She needed it so badly her ribs seemed to ache from it, each breath hurting more than the last.

But then, if she pushed her for an answer now, she might get one she didn't think she could handle at all.

"Alright," she said softly instead. "I'll see you when I get back."

Hermione shook her head and didn't look at her.

"I don't think I feel like ice cream, wine and complaining after this one."

The stone in the pit of Pansy's stomach grew heavier.

"Okay," she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking. "That's okay."

Before she could work herself up, she turned and swiftly left the room, snatching up her clutch as she went.

The closer she got to the front door, the more she wanted to turn around and run back to Hermione.

Instead, she plastered a practised smile of delight on her face and dredged his name up from the back of her mind.

She could make it through the night. She'd figure out the rest after that.

**End.**


	5. Day 5 - Parvansy

**Prompt: **"Please"  
**Pairing: **Pansy Parkinson/Parvati Patil  
**Rating: **Teen  
**Word Count: **1,635  
**Summary: **Parvati messes up her potion and gives up for the rest of the lesson. She isn't the only one.

**Tags**: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Potions Class, Teasing, **Character is outed**, Pre-Relationship

* * *

**Boredom in Potions**

Parvati was carefully lowering the heat under her cauldron in small increments when a commotion across the room caught her attention. She only looked away for a moment, just long enough to see it was Pansy and Daphne causing a fuss.

That moment was all it took. When she turned back to her potion it had turned the colour of sour milk, and smelled even worse. With Slughorn snoring at his desk, and Hermione getting touchier and touchier about helping other people the closer they got to the N.E.W.T.s, she sighed in defeat and vanished the ruined potion.

With nothing left to do, she sat on her stool and rested her elbow on the desk. She propped her chin on her palm, turning her attention across the room to where Pansy and Daphne were still bickering. If she had to be stuck there until the end of class with nothing to do, at least there was entertainment.

It wasn't often the Slytherins fought amongst themselves, but it was always amusing when they did. The only time they dropped their dignified airs was when they fought. Not right away, they usually managed to still look dignified at the beginning at least, stony voices and small gestures, but it seemed Pansy and Daphne had moved beyond that already.

Daphne was holding a large, scrunched up piece of parchment while Pansy tried to snatch it from her hand. Over the summer, Daphne had shot up to match even Ron in height, but Pansy hadn't grown at all. In fact, Parvati was fairly sure she was shorter than Harry.

"I swear if you don't give it back I will make your life hell!" Pansy hissed loudly, lurching forward to try and snatch the parchment again.

Daphne easily held it out of her reach, scoffing as she did so.

"Oh please, you don't have anything new on me," she said, sounding delighted. "You've been too busy lately to pay attention, and now I see why. My, my, my, Pansy, how unexpected."

Draco turned around and hissed at them to shut up, but Daphne ignored him completely. Arms held up high, she pulled the parchment taut and looked over it.

Parvati tilted her head to try and see but the angle was all wrong. She'd seen Pansy doodling on parchment a lot since the year had started, but she'd never managed to see much. When they were paired in Defence, Pansy had been halfway through drawing a realistic portrait of Millicent when she'd noticed Parvati looking and hidden it away, and Parvati hadn't managed to get a glimpse of anything else since.

"It's not bad really," Daphne mused. "Though you've flattered her by changing the shape of her nose a little. Lovely study of her hands. Well, I assume they're her hands since she's all over this. Are those her lips too? Gosh, darling, how transparent of you."

In the most undignified manner Parvati had ever seen of her, Pansy jumped up to try and snatch the parchment away from Daphne.

Parvati looked over to Millicent, wondering if Pansy was drawing her again. It didn't seem likely, Millicent had a lovely cute nose. One of the only attractive features of her face, in Parvati's opinion. No need to flatter her with making it look nicer than it already was.

"What do you want for it then?" Pansy snapped, drawing another aggravated hiss out of Draco.

It seemed to bring Pansy's awareness back to the room. She glanced around, her cheeks flushing pink. Parvati looked down at her textbook before Pansy noticed her looking.

She could just as easily have let Pansy know she'd seen her very undignified behaviour. The result would surely have been even more amusing.

But she was intrigued now. She wanted to know who Pansy had been drawing that would cause such a reaction.

It sounded like prime gossip. Beyond that, she couldn't deny she was curious about the implications. Pansy hadn't reacted that terribly when she'd caught Pansy looking at her sketch of Millicent, but now she'd drawn someone and was throwing an absolute fit about it being seen.

If it had been a sketch of a boy the meaning would be obvious, so it was just as obvious now.

And Parvati was kicking herself for not noticing sooner.

After a whispered exchange too quiet to hear, there was a loud clatter that drew Parvati's attention back.

Draco had stepped away from his cauldron and snatched the parchment from Daphne. In the process, he seemed to have knocked over two jars on their table.

Pansy stood motionless, staring at him with open horror as he scanned the parchment. One of his eyebrows climbed to his hairline. He turned the parchment over and scanned the other side. When he finally looked at Pansy, she looked defeated and he looked delighted.

"Draco, give it back," she tried.

Beside her, Daphne kept looking between them. She didn't look delighted like Draco. In fact, she looked guilty and Parvati perked up. For all Daphne had been teasing her, she hadn't shown the thing about either. Would Draco?

"I don't think I will," he said slowly, turning the parchment over again. "You made me spoil my potion."

"Come on, give it back," Daphne said, reaching for it herself.

Draco pulled away and smirked at her. "Oh? Don't start something you can't finish, Daphne."

Pansy gripped the edge of the desk and looked alarmingly like she was about to cry. It was an utterly foreign expression on her face, and Parvati was riveted.

"Draco...Draco, _please_ don't," she said with a hitch in her voice.

Parvati almost choked on her inhale. She didn't think she'd ever heard Pansy say please before. _Ever_. It suddenly made those implications a certainty. She had a crush on whoever it was she'd been drawing.

"Too late," Draco sneered.

The fear on Pansy's face morphed into anger.

"I will _ruin_ you!" she hissed. "I will tell everyone that you—"

"Don't care, he already knows," Draco said, turning and walking across the room.

He caught Parvati's eye and walked right over to her table. When he dropped the parchment on the table in front of her, she frowned up at him for a moment, then looked down at it when he returned to his table with an ugly smirk on his face.

Across the room, Pansy made a low sound, but she stayed where she was.

Parvati looked over the parchment slowly. It looked like Pansy had been sketching on it for a couple of days. There were small studies of her face from different angles. One of them was from two days ago, when she'd been so bored in History of Magic she'd tried out an elaborate hairstyle. She was shocked she hadn't noticed Pansy staring at her. She had to have been to capture it so clearly.

The attention to detail was rather breathtaking. She'd never seen enough of that sketch of Millicent to really form an opinion, but Pansy's drawing was beautiful. In the spaces around sketches of her head and neck, there were hands in various gestures. She turned the parchment over and scanned the other side.

In the top right corner there was a sketch of her lips and chin. Taking up the rest of the parchment was an unfinished sketch of Parvati standing over her cauldron.

The page slid out of focus as Parvati considered the meaning of it.

The fact it was her should have no bearing on the conclusion she'd already come to.

She wondered if she should be annoyed, or repulsed. She probably should. Pansy wasn't exactly the nicest girl in their year.

But, despite herself, she liked it. They were beautiful drawings and the attention to detail was very flattering.

And she wasn't sure the attention really was unwanted, even if Pansy could be a right cow at times. She wasn't so bad now, really.

Parvati turned and looked across the room.

Pansy was gone.

It took a moment for that to sink in. How upset she must have been to actually leave class and risk detention.

Parvati got up and moved across the room. When she reached Daphne and Pansy's table, she held the parchment out wordlessly.

Daphne gave her a searching look, then took it from her and folded it carefully.

"You're a shit friend," Parvati muttered.

"I wasn't going to show anyone," Daphne said, glaring at the back of Draco's head. "I just wanted to tease her a bit. I didn't think it was that serious until she reacted so badly. We both messed up our potions early on. She wasn't talking to me. I was bored."

Parvati shook her head at her excuses and walked back over to her table. She collected her things and left the classroom. She didn't much care if Slughorn woke up and realised she was gone. Gryffindor was already dead last in house points after Harry's latest round of mucking about after curfew without his bloody cloak.

Anyway, she had a decent idea of where Pansy would run off to, and the least she could do was let her know she wasn't angry or repulsed. She could very well understand how Pansy felt, since she certainly didn't appear open about where her tastes lay. Parvati had been herself for years, but she could still remember a time she'd been scared to let people know. She would never have thought Pansy was scared of anything, but then, she'd also thought she'd never say please either.

For a class she'd mucked up, it certainly had been enlightening.

And maybe, if Pansy didn't hex her on sight out of defensiveness or embarrassment, she might offer to sit and let Pansy take her time drawing her.

Perhaps at Hogsmeade.

**End.**

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A/N: If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving me a review to let me know =)


	6. Day 6 - ChoGinny

**Prompt: **"Take us home."  
**Pairing: **Cho Chang/Ginny Weasley  
**Rating: **General Audiences  
**Word Count: **1,548  
**Summary: **Ginny and Cho finally go to check out the new Quidditch museum.

**Tags: **EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Established Relationship, Disabled Character, Fluff

* * *

**Minding One's Limits**

As much as Cho had been enjoying the morning, when they ducked out of the newly opened Quidditch museum to sit down for a cuppa in a nearby cafe, she almost collapsed into a chair with relief.

While Ginny went up to the counter to order for them, she let herself hunch over and grimace through the pain. The museum was larger than either of them had anticipated, and they hadn't made it through even half of it before it was time for a rest and morning tea.

The day had started out so well, more energy than she'd felt in a while, and her pain levels delightfully low, perhaps from sheer excitement alone.

But now she felt as though a building had crumbled down on top of her.

"I got us some scones with cream and jam," Ginny said as she neared the table again, sliding into the seat opposite Cho's and depositing her bag over the back of her chair. "And I ordered Earl Grey for a change. They have rose petals in theirs, I thought that would be nice to try. Sound alright?"

Cho fought the weight dragging her down to sit up a little straighter and smile at her.

"Sounds lovely," she said.

"I'm glad we went a bit further," Ginny said, peering around the cafe. It was muggle, and only a few tables were occupied. All the places close to the museum had been packed, and the mere sight of them and the sound pouring out of them had made Cho cringe. "A week after opening and the museum is still being flooded."

"I suppose lots of other people thought waiting a bit would be a good idea too," Cho said, shifting in her chair to try and ease the pain in her legs.

"I still can't believe that first exhibit," Ginny breathed, gesturing wildly. "It hardly counts as Quidditch but the similarities are there. It predates the information in all the books on Quidditch history I've read. They really weren't bluffing in their ads in the _Daily Prophet_, they really do have newly uncovered history found nowhere else."

Cho nodded, drinking in Ginny's excitement. It made her fatigue feel stronger to see her gesture so exuberantly, but she loved to see her so excited.

"I could have done without the taxidermic snidget display though," she said, wrinkling her nose. "They could have constructed replicas. Even transfigured something, like they did for the active displays."

The practice of using a living creature as the snitch was a dark stain on the sport's history as far as she was concerned. And she was still trying to forget the materials used for the early Quaffles.

"I agree," Ginny said, scrunching up her face as well. "But I suppose they've been sitting around in cupboards for so long they may as well be used. At least they included information about the conservation efforts going on. I didn't realise they were still endangered."

Cho shifted in her chair again and Ginny's focus sharpened on her. It was on the tip of Cho's tongue to say she was fine, but Ginny was already reaching for her bag.

"Sorry," she muttered, digging through it. "We should have popped out for a break an hour ago. I shouldn't have let myself lose track of time."

Under her breath, she whispered a notice-me-not charm, and then passed a pain potion over to Cho. She was always so quick to blame herself, and Cho couldn't stand it.

"I lost track of time myself," Cho said firmly, taking the potion and downing it. The merest fraction of her pain eased a few moments later, and her stomach sank. She'd have to switch potions again soon. "I've been looking forward to this for weeks."

Ginny took the vial from her and slipped it back into her bag, then reached across the table and took her hand.

"We don't have to see everything at once. Don't push yourself too hard," she said gently.

Old frustration wormed its way to the surface until Cho felt tears pricking behind her eyes. She shook her head and forced it back down. It wasn't the time to dwell on how the things that had once been so easy were now so hard.

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm really enjoying myself."

It didn't look like Ginny was buying it, but their scones and tea were brought over a moment later and she let the subject drop.

While they ate and sipped their tea, which really was lovely, Ginny kept her distracted by talking about the exhibits they'd seen. She got particularly fired up about the historic fight for the inclusion of women into the sport at all, and then the one for the end of gender segregation in teams.

Cho listened and participated less and less. By the time they finished the pot of tea, Ginny reached for her hand again.

"Time to go home?" she asked.

"No," Cho said quickly, only realising she'd slumped when she had to fight to pick herself up.

"We really can come back another day," Ginny said, looking concerned. "There's so much to see, it's better to draw it out really, otherwise it's like an information overload."

It made sense, but they were already so close.

"Just a bit longer?" Cho asked.

Ginny pursed her lips but nodded. She waited patiently while Cho struggled out of her chair, joints grown stiff after sitting still for so long after being on her feet for too long before sitting down. She even kept her mouth shut as Cho's first steps were more like hobbling along than walking.

They were halfway back to the museum when the pain grew too much. Cho turned into an alley and leaned against the wall.

Ginny sighed and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I know this is a lot about your own expectations for yourself, but in case you're worried, I've had a thoroughly lovely morning, and don't mind at all if we go home now," she said.

Cho closed her eyes in a grimace against shooting pains in her ankles and calves. She inhaled sharply and held her breath for a few moments.

When she exhaled, she sagged against the wall in defeat.

"Alright," she said, squeezing Ginny's hand in return. "Take us home."

Ginny gently pulled her close and glanced around. Where the alley opened to the street, a few people passed by. As soon as the way was clear, Ginny Apparated them away.

When they landed in their bedroom, frustration welled up in Cho again, but she let Ginny ease her onto the bed without a fuss.

"I'll make a hot water bottle for your ankles," Ginny said, skimming a hand down Cho's leg to rest on her left ankle for a moment.

Cho closed her eyes and grimaced. "I can do it myself."

Ginny sighed and leaned over her to meet her eye. Cho looked away. She was getting too defensive, she knew. It wasn't about Ginny, and she was lucky that Ginny knew that and didn't get too frustrated with her.

"It's been a long morning," Ginny said softly. "Give yourself some credit. We saw several exhibits, and that was after waiting in line to get in. We'll go again another day."

"Fine," Cho muttered. She couldn't argue Ginny's point, it was the longest she'd been on her feet in a long time. She should be proud of that and not let herself get wound up. It wasn't like it was new anymore. "Can you grab the book I was reading off the arm of the sofa since you're going that way?"

Ginny nodded and ducked down to kiss her quickly. When she left the room, Cho sagged into the bed and groaned. She let herself have a few moments before struggling up and tugging off her shoes.

It hurt to spread out her toes, but she did, rubbing at her feet and then her ankles. She may as well have not taken any pain potion at all, and made a note to look into another alternative.

When Ginny returned, she had propped herself upright against the headboard, sagging against the pillows and far more tired than she had been before they'd Apparated away. Ginny set a hot water bottle over her ankles and handed her the book.

Instead of wandering off to do something else, she clambered into the other side of the bed with a pile of information booklets they'd picked up at the museum.

Cho sat stiffly for a moment, then leaned against her side. With a soft sigh, Ginny turned and kissed the side of her head then snuggled down deeper against the pillows.

"I really am enjoying today," Ginny said softly.

Cho stared at the open pages of her book and tried to think back to before the pain and fatigue had set in. She really had lost track of time herself, looking at exhibits and finding herself distracted enough to ignore the warning signs of reaching her limit.

"Me too," she replied, more to herself than Ginny. It was important she didn't forget the good parts of each day.

"I'm glad," Ginny whispered, like it was a secret, before kissing the side of her head again.

**End.**

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A/N: If anyone is curious, Cho's disability was modeled off fibromyalgia, but the symptoms could fit several other conditions, so headcanon as you wish =)

If you enjoyed reading this, I'd really appreciate a review to let me know =)


	7. Day 7 - Parkgrass

**Prompt: **Cold  
**Pairing: **Daphne Greengrass/Pansy Parkinson  
**Rating: **Teen  
**Word Count: **2,066  
**Summary: **Pansy was swept up by the Aurors following the Battle of Hogwarts. Two months later, they're finally releasing her, and Daphne is there waiting.

**Tags: **EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Established Relationship, **Release from Azkaban and associated trauma, Mistreatment of teenagers by justice system, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending**

* * *

**Healing What's Left**

Daphne was ready to storm Azkaban by the time they finally let Pansy go. When she heard, woken by the owl tapping at the window, passed out at her desk again after working late researching legal precedents, she rushed to the Ministry in yesterday's clothes.

It was thoroughly undignified. Her hair was a rat's nest. Her breath was probably sour. Her clothes were rumpled and she probably smelled like she hadn't showered in a couple of days. If she stopped and thought too hard about it, she'd probably find she _hadn't_ showered in a couple of days.

But none of that mattered.

The Aurors had rounded Pansy up with the Death Eaters at Hogwarts solely because some little twit had told them she tried to give Harry over. There was no evidence she was involved with the Death Eaters, Daphne knew that better than anyone, and yet, they hadn't let her go. They'd kept responding to her enquiries with 'an investigation is pending' and ignored her requests to visit Pansy.

It was beyond disgraceful.

The justice system may have been overworked and run down trying to get the Death Eater trials over with as soon as possible so everyone could move on, but that was no excuse to leave a seventeen year old girl in Azkaban. They still had a handful of Dementors there. It was utterly unacceptable, and Daphne would make sure they suffered for it one day.

But not right now.

All that mattered now was collecting Pansy when they released her from a trial Daphne hadn't even been informed was happening until it was over.

Merlin knows her parents wouldn't have been there. Once she tracked them down she'd give them a piece of her mind too.

When she walked into the Ministry Atrium, the guards moved towards her like they thought she was going to cause trouble again. Before she could even begin to vent her frustration on them, a harassed looking wizard came scurrying out of nowhere.

"Miss Greengrass?" he asked, ducking around the guards.

She didn't know how he recognised her when she'd never seen him before, but she wouldn't put it past the guards to have passed around a picture of her. She had certainly been harassing the Department of Law Enforcement enough to warrant it.

"Where is she?" she asked without preamble.

"If you'll just submit your wand for registering, I'll take you to her," he said, gesturing over to the security desk near the doors leading to the rest of the Ministry.

Daphne grit her teeth. The last time they'd welcomed her in they'd put her in a room and ignored her for several hours instead of listening to her valid complaints about not only Pansy's treatment but many other innocent Slytherin students who had been rounded up as well.

Pansy was her main focus, but she was still fighting for the rest of them too. Most of them had been let out already, none of them had publicly acted out against Harry Potter the way she had, after all. She'd work on getting the rest of them out after she had Pansy somewhere safe.

"I'd rather you brought her out to me, if it's all the same," she said in a tight voice.

Even with all the anger bubbling below the surface, she was so close to getting Pansy out that she wasn't about to start something by being aggressive. They could easily draw out the process for hours if they wanted to, maybe even days.

The wizard's expression became more harried. "We have a private Floo connection available for your use, to avoid the crowds."

Daphne pointedly looked around the deserted Atrium. "Yes, how uncomfortable this crowd will be for us."

"I'm not authorised to bring her out here," he said, gesturing towards the security desk again. "It's for the best if these things are handled privately."

So there's less photographic evidence of their mistreatment of teenagers, Daphne thought waspishly. She still had bruises on her arms from when a security guard had tried to manhandle her out of the Atrium the last time she was there. The moment someone had pulled out a camera he had let her go and stepped back.

The Ministry's declarations of tolerance, transparency, and change were such a joke.

But she couldn't forget what was most important for the moment. Pansy had been in Azkaban for over two months, the sooner she could get her somewhere comfortable the better.

Daphne lifted her chin and walked over to the security desk, all but thrusting her wand at the guard there. He didn't meet her eye as he registered it and gave her a name tag. He looked reluctant as he handed her back her wand at the harried wizard's instruction.

With that over with, the doors to the rest of the Ministry opened, and she was ushered down a long corridor to the elevator at the end.

It made her skin itch all over to be inside the Ministry again. At least she got to keep her wand this time, but the second she tried to use it, justified or not, she knew she'd wind up in Azkaban herself, and then she'd be of no help to anyone.

"Just through here," the wizard said as the elevator stopped on a deserted floor. He gestured across a large room to a wall with four doors.

The sight of empty desks in the room before her sent shivers down Daphne's spine. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jumper and clutched her wand tightly, even if using it would only cause more problems.

It occurred to her, halfway across the eerily empty room, that he had never given her his name. It put her even more on edge. Without a name she couldn't file any reports against him if he acted inappropriately.

By the time they reached one of the doors across the room, she was starting to regret agreeing to leave the Atrium.

But then he opened the door and she saw Pansy.

There was a stone-faced Auror standing beside her, and the fireplace already burning behind him. Daphne scanned the room before stepping through the door, but there was no one else inside.

"Pansy?" she asked gently, crossing the room and touching her shoulder.

Beneath her hand, she could feel Pansy trembling, or maybe shivering. She kept her head down, her hair lank and greasy. A strong and unpleasant odour wafted off her, and Daphne had to force down a rush of anger. Had they not even allowed her to bathe before her sham of a trial?

"If you will sign here to state that for the record that you are collecting her," the Auror said, pointing to a sheet of parchment on a table nearby.

It made her itch again to put her name to anything, nevermind that Pansy had been cleared of all suspicion and charges, so there should be no need to record that she had been collected, but Daphne moved to the table and snatched up the quill lying beside the parchment. As she dipped the nib into the waiting inkpot, she shuddered to discover that the ink was red.

Once done, the first wizard collected the parchment and left the room.

Daphne glanced at the Auror, sizing him up. It set her heart rabbiting away in her chest to be alone in a room with an Auror. She'd made such an enemy of the Ministry in the past two months, she kept expecting to find herself arrested.

"You may use the Floo at your convenience," the Auror said stiffly, still stone-faced.

Better than the ones who expressed outright hostility towards her, she supposed.

She moved back to Pansy and touched her shoulder again.

"Let's go home, shall we?" she said softly, taking her hand and leading her over to the fire.

It was most unlike Pansy to be so silent, or to be led anywhere, but after two months in Azkaban, exposed to Dementors and Merlin knows what else, Daphne didn't think she would have faired any better. The looming presence of an Auror probably didn't help either.

There was a small pot of Floo powder on the mantle, and Daphne took a pinch and tossed it into the fire. Pansy shook against her as she gathered her up and stepped in. When she spoke out her Floo address, it was past a lump in her throat.

The journey was hard, she had to guide Pansy as well as herself. When arrived at her sitting room, they almost fell over. Daphne managed to keep them upright, but only by gripping Pansy so hard it probably hurt. She felt so frail in her arms and under her hands. She'd lost a shocking amount of weight.

And she was still shivering.

"You're safe now," she said, gathering her into a proper embrace and holding her tight. "We're at my house. My parents and sister are on the continent. It's just us."

Pansy was stiff in her arms despite the shivering, but after a few moments, she sagged against her and her breathing hitched on a sob. Another followed, and then another. Daphne closed her eyes against her own tears.

It was hard to hold her through it, and not because of the foul stench emanating from her.

In all the years she'd known her, and the last two years they'd been intimate, she couldn't remember ever seeing her cry.

"What can I do?" she asked, rubbing Pansy's back and trying to ignore the prominence of her too-knobbly spine. "What do you need?"

"C-cold. I'm so...so cold," Pansy stuttered.

Daphne closed her eyes for a moment. The Ministry kept promising to cease the use of Dementors at Azkaban, but two months after their first declaration, they still hadn't. And yet they held people there pending trial, when their guilt was not even assured.

It was barbaric, and the excuse of the holding cells in the Ministry being overcrowded was inadequate.

"How about a shower?" she asked, forcing those thoughts away. It wouldn't do to get worked up around Pansy. She took her upper arms gently and pushed her back to look at her.

Pansy kept her head down, and Daphne had to tilt her chin up to finally see her face. The sight turned her stomach. The beautiful architecture of Pansy's face was now a skeletal caricature. Her cheeks were hollowed and her eyes lost in dark, bruised hollows.

Daphne swallowed against another painful lump in her throat at the evidence of what they'd done to her.

"Let's warm you up in the shower," she said, gently looping an arm around Pansy's shoulder and leading her out of the room.

Still completely unlike herself, Pansy let herself be led. She still shivered and shook, her every step stilted and hesitant. She didn't protest anything, and she dropped her head down again.

When Daphne undressed her in the bathroom, she didn't even try to cover herself. The Pansy of two months ago would have tried to hide how thin and bony she'd become. She'd have tried to hide the smell of what was probably a week without bathing, maybe even longer.

There had been rumours of terrible conditions at Azkaban, but no confirmations. Daphne would make sure everyone heard of this. As soon as she could get details out of Pansy, she'd write something up. She'd been accumulating evidence against the Ministry for the whole two months she'd been advocating for the imprisoned Slytherins. She wouldn't let them get away with this.

If the _Prophet_ wouldn't publish it, she'd go elsewhere.

While Pansy stood naked and shivering, she quickly undressed herself as well. In her state, she didn't think Pansy was even capable of washing herself. She'd never seen someone after such prolonged exposure to Dementors before, she didn't really know what to do. But if she felt cold then warmth should help. And surely getting cleaned up would help as well. She guided Pansy into the shower and let her stand under the warm water for several minutes. Her shaking didn't stop.

"It's okay," she said, pulling her into another embrace. "You're safe now. It'll be okay."

She let the water run over them and closed her eyes.

"Everything will be okay now," she said, wondering who she was trying to convince the most.

**End.**


	8. Day 8 - Kittyhawk

**Prompt: **"May I?"  
**Pairing: **Minerva McGonagall/Rolanda Hooch  
**Rating: **Teen**  
Word Count: **1,232  
**Summary: **Minerva still doesn't quite know what to do about this new Quidditch instructor, and she hasn't yet examined the significance of how well she understands her.

**Tags: **Pre-Relationship, Innuendo, Suggestive Themes, Flirting

* * *

**A Perfectly Innocent Conversation, of Course**

"May I?"

Minerva looked up over the rim of her reading glasses to find the new Quidditch instructor gesturing at the armchair beside her. A quick glance around the staffroom showed many a free chair or sofa, as the room was otherwise vacant. The question was for more than sitting, clearly.

"By all means," she said, turning her attention back to the treatise Albus had written about the latest bills to pass the Wizengamot, and all the things wrong with them, hoping her lack of interest would ward off whatever conversation was coming.

It wasn't that she didn't like this Rolanda Hooch, she seemed personable enough, but that she just didn't know what to do with her. Having been educated on the continent, even though she was from a British family, she had never been sorted. Albus had dismissed Minerva's suggestion that she should stick the sorting hat on Rolanda to see what was what. She still thought it would be informative enough, even if meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

"I see Albus is still peddling that about," Rolanda said, ignoring social etiquette and talking to her anyway. "I told him he should just submit it for publication already. There's no point delaying, he's very firm in his positions and unlikely to change anything."

Minerva sighed and put the treatise to the side to give Rolanda her reluctant attention.

Once again, she was momentarily startled by her appearance. The shock of her short white hair had still not worn off, nor the way she dressed. Her robes fell open to reveal the slacks she was wearing, along with the loose blouse that really could have been a man's shirt. Maybe it was, Minerva didn't allow herself to look closely, she too often found herself focusing on where the billowy shit tucked into the tight, high waist of her slacks when she did.

It was a style she herself admired the look of, but it was still far too uncommon to shake the tradition of long skirts within the castle. Besides, she was wordly enough to understand the message Rolanda put out with her clothing and hair. It could have been just an attempt to stand out amongst the other female staff, or to follow those new trends, but the expression she sometimes got while looking at the female staff nailed the coffin shut on those possibilities. It was a message, and she read it crystal clear.

"It doesn't do to rush these things," Minerva said dryly. "British politics are very different from what you must be used to on the continent."

Rolanda released a sharp bark of laughter, tossing her head back. She rattled off something in French, then held a hand to her chest and sighed. Minerva didn't waste time telling her she didn't understand French. She found the entire display unnecessary, like much about the woman.

"Perhaps you should spend some time on the continent," Rolanda finally said, reaching over and nudging Minerva's arm in a display of over-familiarity. "You might find yourself with a new appreciation of your British politics."

"I find that hard to believe," Minerva said, looking around for an escape.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about the woman unnerved her. She lost her centre around her and never quite knew what to say, or how Rolanda would react. If Albus continued to refuse, she might just sneak into his office and abduct the sorting hat to shove on Rolanda's head to get to the bottom of things anyway. It belonged to the school, not Albus, so she wasn't entirely sure it was even his decision to make.

A house didn't reveal everything serious about a person, but it still said a great deal. It would provide a basis of how to approach conversation with her, at least.

"Ah, enough about politics," Rolanda said, slapping the arm of her chair. "I was perusing the Quidditch trophies today when I spied a familiar name!"

Minerva audibly groaned before she could stop herself.

"When were you going to tell me you played? This certainly explains your passion for the house cup!" Rolanda's eyes fairly twinkled from excitement. "You must come flying with me!"

"Must I?" Minerva commented dryly.

"Yes! I insist," Rolanda said, slapping the arm of her chair again. "You don't know how I long to fly with a fellow adult, and fine woman at that." Minerva was not blind to the sly look Rolanda sent her after those words, but studiously did not react. "Teaching the children is my passion, of course, but they afford no challenge! I played keeper for a time you know, and you a chaser? A fine match for some good-natured competition, don't you say?"

Minerva could hear Albus agreeing in her ear. He'd often tried to talk her into joining the Gryffindor team for training, though he'd at least had the good sense to give up after a few months.

Even though she didn't know Rolanda well, Minerva had a feeling she didn't back down easily, from anything.

Many signs pointed to Gryffindor, but she had a bit of a cunning feel to her.

Minerva really itched to shove the sorting hat over her head.

Still, she couldn't deny she did miss flying. It was all well and good to live vicariously through her little lions, but watching them wasn't the same as flying herself.

"Oh, go on," Rolanda urged, as if sensing her longing. "Where's the harm in a little friendly match? Unless you think you can't get past my defences. You might surprise yourself, you know."

It took a generous helping of self-control not to roll her eyes at that blatant phrasing.

"I don't fly anymore," she said instead. "You would have an unfair advantage as I am no longer practised in the role of chaser."

Rolanda grinned wickedly. "I'll go easy on you. Let you slip a few in to warm up."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Minerva huffed, her cheeks heating despite herself.

Rolanda threw her head back and laughed again. She slapped the arm of her chair and got to her feet.

"Oh, I see through that prim and proper attitude, Minerva," she said. "You understand me better than you like to pretend."

Minerva pursed her lips and didn't deign to respond.

"Crass jokes aside, do let me know if you change your mind and would like to fly sometime," Rolanda said. "It would be nice to be up there with someone closer to my calibre, and it's a shame to let that talent go to waste!"

"I have many more important things to do," Minerva said stiffly, annoyed with herself for not being as opposed to the idea as she should have been.

"But not many more enjoyable things, I'll warrant."

"Back to the crass jokes already?" Minerva said disapprovingly.

Rolanda put a hand to her chest. "Why, Minerva, what ever could you mean? I was speaking of Quidditch." She shot Minerva a sly look. "What were you thinking of?"

"Oh, off with you!" Minerva huffed.

With another loud laugh, Rolanda did retreat, letting the door close loudly behind her on her way out. Minerva found herself staring at that door for an inordinate amount of time.

She shook her head at herself and picked up Albus' treatise again, banishing thoughts of flying, as well as certain other things.

**End.**

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A/N: If you enjoyed reading this I'd really appreciate a comment to let me know =)


	9. Day 9 - HermioneMillicent

**Prompt: **"Leave me alone" + Monster  
**Pairing: **Hermione Granger/Millicent Bulstrode  
**Rating: **Teen**  
Word Count: **4,294**  
Summary: **Millicent Bulstrode has seemed out of sorts every since coming back for the repeat seventh year. Hermione noticed and put two and two together when she disappeared from classes and meals over the full moon.

**Tags: **EWE, Eighth Year, Pre-Relationship, Werewolf Millicent, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Open Ending

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**Not Bad for a First Talk**

Hermione was deeply engrossed in proofreading an essay for Ancient Runes when an argument broke out in the common room. A quick glance across the room revealed the cause, and thoughts of her essay vanished from her mind.

Pansy and Tracey seemed to have cornered Millicent by the fireplace. Hermione had noticed her sitting in an armchair there when she'd sat down to work on her essay. It wasn't the first time she'd taken note of her in a room. Ever since returning for their repeat final year, she'd been unable to stop herself from noticing her.

Millicent had always been quieter than the other Slytherin girls, often called stupid by others, even her own friends sometimes. Hermione had kept her distance over the years, as she had with all the Slytherins, whether they were outwardly hateful towards her or not. But she had not failed to notice Millicent was not as stupid as everyone seemed to think. She just didn't brag when she, without fail, placed within the top ten students of her every class, and the top five for Transfiguration in particular.

That quiet disinterest in house rivalry nonsense over the years, baring her participation in the Inquisitorial Squad, had changed to a general disinterest in everything since September, tainted by listlessness and often accompanied by red-rimmed eyes. When Hermione had entered the common room to work on her essay, she'd found herself startled by just how upset Millicent had looked, and the fact she'd chosen to sit in the common room and let everyone see.

Then again, as Hermione thought back to the full moon two days prior, Millicent probably needed the heat from the fire to lessen the pain in her joints after her transformation. And that probably explained why she looked particularly miserable as well.

"Come on, Millie, enough is enough," Pansy said loudly. "It's been months, you need to stop moping around and start doing things again."

Tracey made a sound of agreement. "You haven't joined us in Hogsmeade in ages. Let's go this weekend, just three of us."

Millicent, who was slumped in the armchair and not even looking at them, just tiredly muttered, "Leave me alone."

Hermione glanced around the room, taking note of who else was around. No one really said anything whenever the Slytherins had little disagreements, but she'd heard a lot of mutterings about how Millicent always brought the mood down in every room she entered. It wouldn't have surprised Hermione if someone else joined in just to get her to stop looking so miserable all the time.

"You're not interested in anything anymore," Tracey muttered. "It's not good for you."

"What happened to that project you wanted to do for Care of Magical Creatures?" Pansy asked. "It was all you could talk about last year. We'll help. Let's go see Hagrid now, yeah?"

On the arms of her chair, Millicent's fingers dug into the upholstery, and Hermione found herself standing up.

"Are you kidding?" she hissed as she crossed the room in three big strides. "She's still recovering, now is not the time to badger her. Let her rest."

Pansy and Tracey turned surprised looks her way. Millicent continued to stare at the fireplace.

"Piss off, Granger, this has nothing to do with you," Tracey said uncertainly, her gaze skittering around the room.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Pansy scoffed. "Go back to your books."

Irritation drowned out Hermione's good sense, and she leaned closer to hiss, "I know better than to interfere with a werewolf trying to rest only two days after a full moon!"

Both Tracey and Pansy looked like they'd seen a Dementor, and they swept the common room again.

"How the fuck do you know about that?" Pansy hissed, her hand shooting out to grab Hermione's arm in a tight grip to pull her closer. "McGonagall said she wouldn't tell anyone!"

Hermione barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

"I'm not an idiot, Parkinson," she said, pulling free from her grip. "I put it together."

Pansy opened her mouth, probably to try and threaten her into silence, but then Millicent stood up and she closed it with a snap. For once, Millicent didn't look sad or listless. She looked angry.

Hermione braced herself, but Millicent ignored her completely, reaching out and shoving Tracey away from her.

"Why can't you both just leave off for once?" she asked. "No one would even notice if you didn't keep making such a fuss over me! I don't want to go to Hogsmeade, I don't want to anything to do with Care of Magical Creatures. I just want to be left alone!"

When she turned to leave, Hermione stepped out of her way, but Millicent grabbed her wrist as she walked past and tugged her along after her. Hermione was so surprised by it that she didn't struggle, and let Millicent tug her all the way down the corridor to the dormitories.

It was only after Millicent dragged her into a dormitory and let her go to slam the door shut that she realised she probably should have resisted.

Millicent didn't speak at first, instead, she leaned her forehead against the door. Her breathing was loud and slow. It only took a moment for Hermione to realise she was trying to calm herself down.

Two days after the full moon. It was not the time to be aggravating her.

"I shouldn't have interfered, I made things worse," Hermione admitted. She couldn't really account for it. She knew better, and yet she'd just acted. She'd been entirely too focused on Millicent lately, but couldn't seem to stop herself. "I'm sorry."

"How long have you known?" Millicent finally asked, turning back around. She leaned back against the door, effectively trapping Hermione in the room.

If it had been any of the other Slytherin girls, werewolf or not, Hermione would have been on edge at once. But there was something about Millicent, she found herself more concerned for her than wary of her. It had been clear since she'd first realised that Millicent was not handling her situation well.

"September," she admitted freely. "You weren't in any classes on the full moon, and then you missed dinner. You looked awful the next day when you reappeared for dinner after missing all your classes again. Although, I didn't know for sure until October, when it happened again.

Millicent closed her eyes in a grimace. "So everyone knows I'm a monster then."

Hermione blinked at her, sure she'd heard her wrong. When Millicent didn't speak again, she found herself getting agitated.

"You're not a monster. Who said that to you?" she asked, surprised by how shrill her own voice became.

"Oh, I don't need anyone to tell me that," Millicent said bitterly. "Anti-werewolf sentiment didn't get any better for all you lot advocated against discrimination." She met Hermione eyes and then laughed weakly. "My own cat won't come near me anymore. I've had her since I was a kid, she'd terrified of me now. If that doesn't make it clear..."

Hermione winced in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Millicent," she said.

With another bitter laugh, Millicent slid down the door and sat on the floor. She shifted her legs and groaned softly, then propped her elbows on her knees and hid her face in her hands.

"You almost sound like you mean that," she said.

"I do mean it," Hermione insisted, lowering herself to the floor as well until she sat across from her. "That can't be easy, losing your pet after everything you went through already."

Millicent shook her head behind her hands. She was still blocking the door, but Hermione had a feeling that was more because she was still so tired and sore after the full moon. If she hadn't been standing in front of it when she'd sat down, Hermione was sure she'd let her leave.

"I don't even know why I came back," Millicent muttered, sliding her hands off her face and leaning back against the door. "I should have stayed away like Brown did." She looked at Hermione and then grimaced. "I don't know why I'm talking to you about this either."

With an awkward shrug, Hermione looked around the room. Pansy and Tracey were probably livid that she was in their room. In fact, she was surprise they weren't already banging on the door to be let in.

"You did the right thing by dropping Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione said, turning back to Millicent. "It would have given you away. Many magical creatures are sensitive to others."

Millicent's shoulders dropped and her lips trembled for a moment. Hermione had seen her with red-rimmed eyes often, but she'd actually never seen her cry. In fact, before that year, she was sure she'd never even seen her upset. She'd always been so immune to things around her. Sometimes Hermione had envied her for it.

"It was my favourite subject," Millicent said, with a wobble in her voice.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said again. She was no good at these sorts of things. Ron always seemed to know the right thing to say. Even when they'd fumbled their way through breaking up, he'd known exactly what to say, while she had managed to sound completely insensitive.

Now it was just easier to say she was sorry when she didn't know what else to say. It still annoyed her that she was no good at this, but at least she was less likely to say the wrong thing that way.

"Why?" Millicent said, frowning over at her. "Why are you being so nice all of a sudden? We were never friends."

Hermione shrugged, her face growing hot. She was at a loss to explain it. It was the right thing to do, given what Millicent was going through. Only someone heartless would be cruel to her about this. But saying that wasn't exactly kind. Besides, it went beyond that, and she knew it, as much as she wanted to deny it.

"Why not?" she said. "That's all in the past, right?"

"You lot forgive too easily," Millicent snorted, shaking her head and rubbing at her left knee.

"You're still sore?" Hermione said, watching her massage the joint.

"The aching lasts for days," Millicent mutters.

"It'll ease off after a few more months," Hermione said, recalling what Professor Lupin had told her. He'd been quite patient when she'd gone to him full of questions the first time she'd seen him again after he'd stopped teaching them. "Then it will only be for the first and maybe second day after. Until you get older at least."

"How do you know that?" Millicent squinted at her. "That's not in any textbooks."

"I knew Professor Lupin fairly well after he left," she explained, wincing for a moment at a pang of sadness. She really ought to visit Teddy with Harry next time he went. He kept asking her and Ron to go, but she still felt very awkward about it. She didn't know what to do with a baby.

Millicent looked down at her legs and rubbed at her other knee. She grimaced, but her eyes weren't focused on anything, and Hermione guessed it wasn't her sore joints behind it. It seemed so long ago now, but she remembered all the nasty things the Slytherins had said about Lupin after he'd been forced to leave.

It suddenly didn't seem so wise, to bring him up.

"I said awful things about him," Millicent finally said with a frown. "I don't know why. I didn't really believe them. I didn't like them. I never liked that purity rot. I'm half-blood myself."

Hermione winced. She really didn't want to have this conversation. She'd overheard a couple like it over the first few months, people apologising and trying to put the past behind them. It all made her uncomfortable. She'd said a lot of hurtful things about others herself, even if she'd refrained from doing it to their faces and was spared the necessity of apologies. Sometimes she'd rather just pretend none of it had ever happened, just to avoid these sorts of conversations.

"It takes a lot of courage to stand up to your friends," she murmured, thinking about what Dumbledore had said about Neville in their first year. She'd mostly been irritated by him then, but he really had been brave, and it hadn't really been about the points either. He'd been trying to stop them from losing points more because everyone had been angry with them for it. He'd wanted to spare them that feeling instead. He'd been a good friend even when she hadn't considered him one. "Pansy and Tracey really seem to be trying."

Millicent grimaced. "I know. I just...they were never this nice to me before. It's weird. It's too like pity."

"I don't know, they seemed to be trying to get you doing things you like, rather than just saying meaningless things to cheer you up," Hermione said, still feeling like she was saying all the wrong things. "I mean, they were getting it wrong with the Care of Magical Creatures thing and trying to get you to do things so soon after the full moon, but at least they tried to think about things you enjoyed once?"

It reminded Hermione of when Harry was having his rough patches over the years. Those times when it seemed she and Ron could do nothing right and only seemed to upset him further. She had wanted to give up a few times, thinking Harry was finally sick of her, but Ron had always urged her to keep trying, so Harry knew they still cared even when he was being a jerk in return.

"I mean, they probably would have given up on you by now if they didn't really care, right?" she tried. "They don't gain anything by persisting like this, do they? Why bother unless they care?"

It sounded awful, but it also sounded Slytherin, so it hopefully made more sense to her.

Millicent seemed to consider it. Hermione looked around the room again. She had a feeling the bed that was surrounded by mess was Millicent's. She was probably too tired and sore to keep tidy. Or maybe she was always messy and Hermione was overthinking things out of awkwardness.

"Not like Daphne," Millicent finally said. "She's just been avoiding me since the start of term. When she found out we were all going to be roomed together she went straight to McGonagall and asked to be moved. They stopped talking to her after that, actually."

An unlikely and utterly foreign feeling of respect for Pansy and Tracey wormed its way through Hermione. She might not like them, and they might still be utter cows in her opinion, but it really did sound like they cared, even if they didn't seem to really get it.

Then again, that might be on Millicent for not explaining it to them.

"Sounds like they really care," Hermione said. "Maybe you should talk to them about it, let them know why you don't want to do what they suggest. I'm sure they'll understand and think of new things you might enjoy."

Millicent frowned at her.

"You're good at this," she said.

Hermione gaped at her. "Am I?"

"Probably all that practise with Potter and his moods," Millicent said, sounding amused. "You really are good at everything. It's just not fair."

Heat crept into Hermione's face. It was something she'd heard so often she'd sort of become numb to it. It was a little embarrassing that it had an effect on her now.

While she was trying to think of a response, Millicent struggled to her feet with a groan. Hermione scrambled to her own feet, reaching out when Millicent staggered to the side.

"I'm alright," Millicent muttered. "Just stiff and sore, as you are apparently well aware, since you know everything."

"You should go back down to the fire," Hermione said.

Millicent grimaced and shook her head.

"How many other people know?"

Hermione bit her lip. As far as she knew, the others in their year didn't, with the exception of Millicent's friends and Ron, Harry, and herself. Everyone was too busy making the most of life after the war to pay attention. It said a lot about her that she had noticed, really. She liked to explain it away as experience after Lupin, and sensitivity to such things after the war, but really, she'd just been keeping an eye on Millicent and wasn't ready to think about what that meant.

"Ron and Harry know," she admitted, her mouth continuing with a mind of its own. "I didn't tell them, they noticed me noticing. I don't think anyone else knows."

"Well, Potter hasn't come after me in a blaze of righteous, heroic fury, so maybe I'm not really a monster after all," Millicent sighed.

Hermione gaped at her, then Millicent's lips twitched and she realised Millicent was _playing_ with her. It was clear it was a joke, maybe to ease some tension, not that she'd ever have thought Millicent would care if there was tension between them. Hermione still couldn't stop herself from replying seriously.

"No, you're not," she said softly. "Harry's actually very sympathetic. He was also very close to Lupin."

Millicent's lip wobbled for a moment before she bit down on it harshly. Hermione cursed herself for saying the wrong thing. But at least she'd proven Millicent wrong about the ridiculous idea that she was good at this sort of thing. They needed Ron. Ron always said the right thing, even when it sounded like the wrong thing. She was always insanely jealous of him for his ease in situations like this.

"It's stupid, but I wanted to see him. _A__fter_," Millicent finally said. "Even though it's been years, he was such a good teacher. He...I thought if anyone could help me figure out what to do next, it would be him. And he was so nice he probably would have helped me, even though I was just a Slytherin he taught several years ago. But then I heard he'd died."

It wasn't what she usually did, but Hermione followed a burst of instinct and stepped forward to put her hand on Millicent's shoulder.

"He would have," she said. "He would have helped you without hesitation."

"Why am I even talking to you about this?" Millicent groaned, covering her face again.

Hermione didn't have a clue, except maybe she was just in the right place at the right time when everything was bubbling over and needing to be talked about. Or maybe because they weren't friends it was easier for her. She didn't know how these things worked.

"You should go and talk to Tracey and Pansy, clear the air a bit," she suggested.

"Not today," Millicent grumbled. "I'm too tired, too grouchy, today. I'll just end up snapping at them."

"You're not snapping at me," Hermione pointed out.

"You're not expecting anything of me," Millicent countered. "You're not telling me I'm not how I used to be, or that I should be doing more. You're not acting like this _thing_ I'm dealing with is something I can just move on from like it isn't _life-changing _and _awful_." She stopped and sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "You're just...I don't even know what you're doing. I don't think we've ever had a conversation before in all the years we've been in this castle together."

It was strange to realise she was right. They never had talked.

"You can talk to me again sometime, if you want," Hermione offered. "Or we could study together if you just want some company. We share a lot of classes."

That way she wouldn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing if they were both busy studying. She was sure Millicent wouldn't be like Ron and Harry, interrupting her every five minutes with utterly pointless and unrelated comments. If she did speak, Hermione was sure it would be relevant and interesting. Millicent marks weren't very close to hers, not many were, but they were still good marks.

"You should go back down to the fire, it'll help with your post-transformation discomfort," she said as she caught Millicent rubbing at her hip with a grimace.

"They'll probably bug me again," Millicent muttered. "I get that I probably should talk to them, but they'll get emotional and I just can't deal with that today. Sit with me by the fire? They'll leave me alone if you're there. They're downright terrified of you."

Hermione stared at her.

"They're..._Parkinson_ is afraid of _me_?" she scoffed.

Millicent laughed and shrugged. She looked a lot more cheerful than she had been sitting by the fireplace earlier, and Hermione felt a warm sense of pride for managing to brighten her mood when she must have been feeling so awful.

"You're Hermione Granger, brightest and most badarse witch in our year," Millicent said. "Potter may have dealt the death blow, but we're all aware of the part you played. They're intimated by you. Probably kill me for telling you, actually. They may act dismissive and catty, but really, they deeply respect you. I think even more so because of all you achieved being muggleborn and defying everything they believed about blood purity."

Heat rose to Hermione's cheeks again. She wasn't sure about any of that. She knew the papers were still making a fuss about her, and the younger students, but she didn't think anyone in their year would be overly impressed. She'd always been the insufferable know-it-all to them. _Especially_ to the Slytherins who had always hated her.

"I'll read over your essay for you if you sit with me," Millicent added. "Ancient Runes, right?"

"You don't take Ancient Runes," Hermione said with a frown.

"Only because I didn't want to take too many classes this year. Because of...you know..."

Hermione continued to frown at her. "Avoiding it like that isn't going to make it any easier to accept. You're a werewolf. It's certainly not easy, but it really isn't the end of the world either. You could be dead, Millicent. You'll struggle, but at least you'll live. That will be easier if you face it head-on."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Hermione could have slapped herself. It sounded far too harsh. It was the truth, but it was lacking any soft edges. She'd forgotten for a moment to be careful about what she was saying. She should have just said sorry again instead.

But instead of getting upset, Millicent surprised her by snorting and shaking her head. Hermione didn't understand what was so amusing about what she'd said, but it was better than angering her, she supposed.

"That's such a Gryffindor way of looking at it. Face it head-on. We don't do things that way," Millicent said.

"Oh. Then...do it however you lot face things then," Hermione muttered weakly.

"I don't really want to talk about it anymore, that's enough for one day, and too much for a day like today," Millicent said, shaking her head again with a grimace. "You've already given me enough to think about. Which is shocking on its own, since it's the first time we've even talked properly."

"Okay," Hermione said quickly. "I'll sit with you by the fire and scare off your friends so you can rest. I don't really need help proofreading my essay, but another set of eyes never hurts."

It sounded cold, but Millicent nodded like it was sage wisdom, reminding Hermione again that Slytherins saw those kinds of things differently.

Maybe she didn't have to worry about mucking this up as much as she had been.

Millicent opened the door and moved into the hallway. Hermione cast one last long look around the room and then followed her out. They received a few odd looks when they sat down in the common room, but Hermione rather thought that was more to do with how visibly different Millicent looked. She was still a bit hunched over from pain, but she didn't look nearly as miserable as she usually did.

After retrieving and handing her essay over to Millicent, Hermione settled into her armchair by the fire and started making a mental list of books to check out of the library. She had a feeling Millicent and her friends had only researched the basics on her lycanthropy. There had to be some animals out there that wouldn't reacted to her with a state of fear.

They weren't friends, but Hermione understood the emotional support of a pet well enough to want that for her. Crookshanks had helped her through waking from nightmares over the summer, she'd have been in a worse place coming back to Hogwarts without him. In fact, as a half-kneazle, even he might be intelligent enough to realise Millicent wasn't a threat. But she'd have to do some research before doing anything. It wouldn't do to get Millicent's hopes up when she was obviously still struggling under the weight of what she was now.

Hermione looked at Millicent. She had her head bent over the parchment, reading slowly while rubbing her knee again.

It really defied belief that they had been able to talk for so long, or that Millicent seemed to have found it comforting rather than annoying.

Hermione settled back into her armchair, feeling a touch more warm than could be attributed to the fireplace alone. It was niggling at her in the back of her mind, what it all meant. She pushed it back again and returned to her mental list. She'd worry about that later, she wanted to find Millicent a pet first.

**End.**

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**A/N:** If you enjoyed reading this I'd really appreciate a comment to let me know =)


	10. Day 10 - HermioneTracey

**Prompt: **"You don't meant that."  
**Pairing: **Hermione Granger/Tracey Davis  
**Rating: **Teen  
**Word Count**: 1,254  
**Summary: **Tracey has had enough of her friends' snide and bigoted views of her relationship. She's putting her foot down, for better or worse.

**Tags: **EWE, Eighth Year, Established Relationship, Light Angst, Fluff, moving on from friendships that hurt

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**Choosing What Makes Her Happiest**

There was a round of gasps the moment the words came out of Tracey's mouth. Not just from her friends, but from the other eighth years that were in the common room and doing a poor job of pretending to ignore their argument.

"You don't mean that," Pansy said, an edge to her voice that told Tracey to retract her statement _or else_.

Tracey squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a bit. She stared Pansy down and didn't even look to the others.

"I do," she said firmly. "If you can't accept that I have real, genuine feelings for her, if you can't move past your prejudices to support me and my relationship, then I have no interest in continuing our friendship."

A dark cloud settled over Pansy's expression but beside her, Daphne looked crushed.

"You'd really turn your back on all of us? For her?" she asked softly, as if she still didn't believe it was even possible Tracey could entertain the idea, let alone threaten them with it.

Beside her on the sofa, Draco stayed silent, but he was looking at Tracey with a calculating expression. Out of all of them, he had been the one to show the most change after the war, even if maybe he was the last one everyone expected it from. She had a feeling he respected her for what she was doing, but she doubted he'd ever admit it. Draco was and always had been a coward. He'd go with whatever the majority of their friends did, as always.

And if he proved her wrong? Well, that would be a nice change, and maybe if they really did make her go through with her decision she would still have at least one friend after.

"Real friends wouldn't make me choose," Tracey said shortly.

They hadn't, of course, not in so many words, but their constant snide comments and vocal disbelief about her feelings, the way they insulted everything about the person she was happy with, it amounted to the same thing. She could not be in a relationship that her friends constantly disrespected. She had to lose one or the other.

It wasn't as though she wanted to turn her back on her friends, but their actions, their attitude, it had no basis in anything but old prejudice. If their negative opinion of her relationship had been founded in anything valid, she would have considered their opinions, but they had no legitimate complaints at all.

It was as disappointing as it was disgusting after everything they'd all been through.

Sick of the matter, and sick of the feeling in her stomach as she sat there and told her friends that she would leave them behind if they didn't change, she stood.

"I won't discuss this further, there is nothing more to say. You either care about me and thus support what makes me happy, or you don't and there's no point continuing our association," she said, before turning her back on them and leaving the common room.

The sick feeling in her stomach intensified until her hands shook. It was a heinous act, to turn her back on her friends, but she could not suffer through their behaviour any longer. She knew she was in the right, and she hoped they saw it too and put her happiness above their outdated prejudices. If they didn't...she didn't want to think about it yet.

She tried to tell herself she was going to wander the castle aimlessly until she felt better, but her feet took her to the library, and she knew it was more intentional than she wanted to admit.

The library was as quiet as it always was, and as stuffy. It wasn't her favourite place to be, but it was where she needed to be. She wove through the shelves until she found who she was looking for, settled at a table and surrounded by open books and several sheets of parchment.

When she pulled out the chair next to her, Hermione took several moments to finish the thought she was scribbling down before turning to her with a tired smile.

"Am I late for pudding in the kitchen?" she asked, leaning over to kiss Tracey's cheek

Warmth rushed from her cheek through the rest of her body, and Tracey sighed softly and shook her head. It was a habit of theirs to sit in the kitchen and eat something sweet after Hermione was done studying for the night.

Hermione liked to check in with the House Elves, and after she had, and they'd forced many treats on her, she relaxed and became so easy to talk to. Those nights had become Tracey's favourite nights since returning to Hogwarts. Even the first accidental time it had happened, when she'd been hiding in the kitchens after a bad day and Hermione, too polite to ignore her, had struck up a conversation with her instead.

"No, I just needed to see you," Tracey said softly, shifting her chair closer to lean their shoulders together.

"Oh?" Hermione asked, leaning into the contact as well.

Tracey could see the moment her focus shifted entirely away from her study. She hadn't meant to distract her, only sit with her, but she appreciated the care behind it nonetheless. Hermione wasn't always very vocal about her feelings, but she said a lot in many different ways.

"Argument with my friends," Tracey said simply. They had talked of this before. "Maybe the last argument."

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, wrapping an arm around Tracey's shoulders and pulling her in closer.

It wasn't her fault, and Tracey was sure that not only did she know that, but she was really thinking some rather shocking expletives directed at her friends instead. Hermione was surprisingly careful not to insult Tracey's friends in front of her, regardless of the way they treated her. It only made Tracey feel even more sure of her decision.

If Hermione could outwardly respect her friendships, even when those friends insulted her often, and even if she really hated them herself, then those friends could damn well be civil in return.

"It's alright," she said. "It hurts, but it's time. I'm sick of the way they talk about you. I thought they needed time to adjust, but it's been long enough. These things happen, people change, friendships fade away. It hurts, but such is life."

With a soft sigh, Hermione picked up her wand and flicked it at the table. The books started closing and flying back to the shelves, and her parchments shuffled into a neat stack that slid into her bag.

"Let's go down early," Hermione said. "Pudding won't fix anything, but it's still something nicer to focus on."

Tracey smiled and let Hermione lead her out of the library. She was sure Hermione got that from Ron, she'd heard him make similar declarations about food over the years. It was true, but at the same time it wasn't.

Pudding didn't fix anything, and yet it had unexpectedly brought them together. They'd built their relationship up around it until they were meeting and spending time together outside the kitchens.

But it wasn't the really the pudding she focused on when they were in the kitchens. It was always Hermione. She could do without the sweet treats as long as Hermione remained.

"Sounds perfect," Tracey said, slipping her hand into Hermione's and linking their fingers together.

She could get through losing her intolerant friends, as long as Hermione remained.

**End.**

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A/N: If you enjoyed reading this I'd really appreciate a comment to let me know.


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